Monday, April 28, 2014

Zeus gets what he wants, doesn't he? Bred by the Spartans

The central idea for Bred by the Spartans, my new book, is that Thaleia, a minor goddess of waters (call her a water nymph, if you like--same thing, really), gets sent down from Mount Olympus as a mortal because she refuses Zeus' advances. My biggest challenge in writing the book was that in real Greek myth, it just doesn't make sense that any female, goddess or mortal, could resist Zeus, since what we can call, politely, ravishment was simply part of ancient Greek culture, when done by a man of higher status to a woman (or a man) of lower status.

Since Zeus' status is of course higher than anybody else's, the idea of Zeus needing anyone's--even a goddess'--consent before he enjoyed her (or him--a prince named Ganymede is one of Zeus' most notable ravishments) is, from the point of view of real Greek myth, ridiculous. I had to come up with something new, and I think it worked. Note that this excerpt includes the little snippet I posted on Saturday--so faithful readers of this blog will have some of their curiosity answered!

"And now it's your turn, Thaleia," Zeus said. "Take off your chiton and get on that couch next to Clea, and I'll show you how good the deeds of Eros feel."

But Thaleia's mind rebelled. She had only taken a dare from Argeia; she just wanted to go back to her father's palace and play knucklebones the way Argeia had said they would, if Thaleia took the dare and ran through Zeus' palace.

She looked at the mighty god standing before her, his face growing stern as he saw that Thaleia was hesitating. His manhood. . . was even bigger than Poseidon's. And he wanted to put it inside her and do that thing that looked so violent, that he had been doing to Clea.

"Thaleia," said Zeus, "you must stop this coy pretense of innocence. When the father of gods and men wants to enjoy you, you would be well served to obey him. Now get yourself over the couch, or your backside is going to pay a heavy price before I have you at last."

"Oh, my lord. . . please. . . can't I wait? . . I'm only nineteen."

"Thaleia," Zeus said, "it appears that you still do not understand the order of things on Olympus. I do the deeds of Eros with whatever girl I choose, whenever I choose, and, like Clea here, that girl understands, when I choose her, that in truth she yearns for me just as I yearn for her. Do you mean to say that, seeing me uncovered before you, and ready for you, you do not yearn to submit to my will?"

How could Thaleia express what she felt at Zeus' words, and at the sight of his divine manhood there before her? She looked at Clea's face as lord Poseidon, his own face transfigured with godly pleasure, pushed into her over and over. Clea had her head down, and her eyes closed, and suddenly Thaleia realized that she wanted to be in Clea's place, wanted Zeus' enormous manhood to do to her what Poseidon's was doing to Clea, but that Thaleia could never admit to that feeling, for she found that her pride and honor would not allow it.

Zeus looked at her sternly. "The consequences of resistance are great, Thaleia."

The air began to push at her again, and a terrible gust of wind ripped her chiton right off her body. She cried out to be naked, confronted by Zeus and his enormous masculinity.

"This is your last chance to avoid a thrashing before I ravish you, sweet Thaleia," Zeus said. "Get on that couch and push out your bottom for a fucking, or I'm going to spank you first and ravish you after."

Thaleia thought of Maia, mother of Zeus' son Hermes, now an Olympian himself. She had never until now understood the story she had heard in hushed whispers, of how Zeus had come for her on the mountainside, and kept her inside a cave while he took his pleasure for nine days and nights. Of how Maia had barely survived the ordeal, and was not allowed now ever to come to Olympus for fear of Hera.

A blast of wind pushed Thaleia over to the couch where Poseidon was by this time vigorously thrusting into Clea, holding the girl's wrists behind her, as Clea cried out under the sea god's massive member. The wind pushed Thaleia down until she was kneeling next to the couch with her hands out in front of her, and her face in the cushion.

Zeus chuckled. "I like the ones with a little spirit," he said. "They tend to make the mightiest heroes."

He gave her a spank on her little bottom, and another. Thaleia whimpered. "Please, lord Zeus! Ow! Please!" she cried.

"Quiet, girl," he said. "You're fortunate I'm not using my whip. Girls who get the whip don't enjoy the deeds of Eros quite as much afterward. Should I get my whip?"

"No! Oh, lord. . . please. . ."

Thaleia thought about the whip of Zeus, and knew that she wanted to feel it striking her bottom. She thought about his enormous manhood, and knew that she wanted to be made to take it everywhere, along every avenue of pleasure the sky-god might find.

But she also knew, with crystalline clarity, that she could never say so.

"You must break me," she said to the cushion.

"What did you say?" she heard Zeus ask, behind her.

Zeus stopped spanking Thaleia. "You are going to pay a very severe price for balking me, Thaleia, you foolish girl. You will wish that you had simply done the deeds of Eros with me and had your little hero."

When the beautiful young goddess Thaleia spurns Zeus’ attentions, he has her thoroughly and shamefully punished and then casts her down from Olympus to walk the earth as a mortal woman. Worse still, he places a curse upon her which will overcome any man who sees her with the desire to claim her in the most humiliating ways possible. Her only hope lies in an ancient power stronger even than the gods… Destiny has decreed that if, in spite of the curse, two men can make her confess that she yearns to be theirs, then she will find a happiness beyond her fate.

After Thaleia’s sister throws herself at the feet of Apollo in desperation and begs for his aid, Apollo appears in a dream to Leontes and Theoleon, two of the bravest warriors of Sparta, and commands them to rescue Thaleia. When the men wake and find the girl naked and distressed, they are torn by two equally powerful instincts: to take her long and hard and make her blush with shame, and to love and protect her as their own.

The three journey to the Oracle at Delphi, who gives them Apollo’s prophecy—that the descendant of two Spartan warriors and a goddess will one day save all Greece from its enemies. But if Thaleia bears the son Apollo has foretold and Zeus relents and allows her to return to Olympus, will her love for her two Spartans be greater than her desire for immortality?

OK, fess up. Are you like me? Have you fantasized about being a mortal woman ravished by Zeus? Say, Leda?

Taboo Tuesday

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About Me

Emily Tilton, whose books have hit number one on Amazon in four different erotica categories, wishes she could live out her fantasies of submission the way her characters do.

Emily's erotica is a narrative version of her nearly lifelong quest to reconcile her submissive erotic orientation with her ethics. She writes erotica, not erotic romance: her books are about sex, because writing about sex helps her understand that fundamental part of her life better. She hopes maybe it does the same for her readers.

Over the many years since Emily became aware of her sometimes unbearable craving for ravishment, spanking, and above all anal domination, she has tried to come to terms with that craving in more ways than she can count. The first of the ways was by reading, voraciously, every piece of BDSM erotica she could find.

Eventually, she read Story of O. As is reflected throughout her work, it changed her life, though the change has been gradual, and continues to this day. The idea that other women might share the lusts she has by turns been ashamed of and defiantly proud of, that a woman like the real Pauline Réage might write so beautifully of those lusts, and work them out so thoroughly and even pitilessly on a character, put Réage's famous pencil in her right hand. Or, to put it in the terms of EXPLORATIONS, which she considers her magnum opus, it put her left hand on the keyboard of her laptop and her right hand in her lap, if you know what she means. Emily started to write spanking stories.